The march was arduous and monotonous, carried on by the clamor of thumping footsteps and clanking of armor.
The officers led at the front of columns, the Cohort's standard proudly raised as they marched to the bland beating of drums which served merely to maintain pace and rhythm.
Rainer marched at the back of the formation just before the baggage train. The rolling carts, mulls, and braying animals provided a constant background noise, which helped him sink into his nothing box, zoning out into space with empty eyes.
His shield was fixed onto his back with a rope, and the metal spear was held in his hands—both of which had gotten hot under the sun.
Although, the sun beat down relentlessly on him, he didn't sweat much.
He had been making use of a breathing technique he learned during a previous life, of a time spent as a temporary brothel guard in a cultivation world.
The technique nearly tripled his endurance and was excellent for extended bed exercises.
It was a memory he thankfully remembered, amongst the vast quantity sealed away.
They marched for what seemed like a long time, and each time Rainer looked up, he saw that they were getting closer to the Mount of Carpertes.
The land they marched through was dry and hilly in most areas, but beyond, grassy plains and green forests could be seen everywhere, leading into the famed mountain range which stretched across the horizon.
The march kicked up dust into the air and Rainer sniffed, trying to stop himself from sneezing. He glanced to the far right, at a small hill where two auxiliary scouts rode up the hill like ants.
Arriving at the top, they stopped and one quickly raised up a horn to blow on, but a javelin burst through his torso, sending him toppling off his horse and down the hill. The second scout tossed his own javelin toward an unseen target on the other side before retreating with haste.
He then began yelling with urgency toward the cohort as he sped down.
The air soon became tense, and it seemed like the half-cohort of three centuries and a baggage train with servants had begun to react.
Officers quickly barked out orders and horns were blown for a halt.
"Am— Ambush!"
The scout's distant cry softly caressed their ears, sending a sharp tingle up everyone's spine.
Soon, the ground began trembling and what the scout fled from appeared over the hill, pouring down in waves toward them like a disturbed termite hill.
Rebel riders, with curved helmets and colorful scale armor, rush over and down towards them with quivers loaded tightly with javelins.
Rainer's shock soon morphed into an uneasy frown.
'You got to be kidding me.'
The atmosphere instantly became charged with tension, and anxiety churned in the air.
The cohort wasn't even half its full strength, and half its current members were wounded. Now they had to battle against rebel raiders, numbering at least two hundred strong.
However, despite this, morale remained steady.
Their first and second columns comprised the second and third centuries, which were filled with many of the most experienced, disciplined, skilled soldiers.
Moreover, they had their esteemed Prefect with them. The soldiers felt that with him around, they could fully express the prowess for which their cohort was granted the Latin titles: Tigris Fidelis!
*PuUOO!*
The battle horn was blown, new orders were yelled, and like a hivemind the soldiers moved, morphing into a block formation around the baggage train.
Alexios and his officers quickly rode in to take command.
At once, Alexios' deep, inspiring voice cut through the din.
"Cohooort! Ready javelins!"
The soldiers took out their javelins with their shields held at the ready.
Rainer's eyes widened in realization.
'Ah! He's going to exchange fire with a moving target?!'
As soon as the rebel raiders rode within range they tossed their javelins into the air toward them, before arching to the east.
"Send!"
Alexios barked and the auxiliaries tossed their javelins toward the riders' new path as they arched around.
"Raise shields!"
The new command transformed the formation and they hastily took on a defensive form.
Rainer glanced back at his shield tied up to his torso before looking up to the approaching silhouettes of lethal missiles, whizzing down fast enough to decapitate a man.
Rainer grimaced and ran back.
"Ah! damnit!" He muttered and leaped down toward the baggage train.
*Suuk!* *Suuk!* *Clang!* *Pok!*
The lethal missiles rained down, grazing armor plates and piercing shields. Rainer fell to the floor behind the shield wall, and the weight of his shield pressed down against him from the impact. So much so that he thought his ribs would crack.
A javelin hit his shield and he heard a heavy bang as it easily got deflected forward, thrusting into the side of the wagon of tents.
Rainer frantically crawled beneath the wagon, under the chaotic symphony of javelins cutting the air mixed with the cries of dying men.
*Suuk!* "Grah!"*Suuk!* "Gah!"
*...*
A brief silence soon reigned over the battlefield as the initial volley came to an end.
Rainer took the moment to get his breath back, pondering.
He wondered where these rebels came from. If they were reinforcements for the rebels they defeated at the garrison fort, or a separate group entirely. He felt that it could also be an elaborate plan to capture the Prefect.
They were understrength, the cohorts' archery and equestrian units had gone on ahead, and only light infantry remained—a lot of whom were injured.
Rainer sighed and shook his head.
Either way, he felt it was useless to think about it now. What he needed to do now was contribute to this battle. While the rebel raiders may not be able to defeat them, he thought that he could at least try to make the battle easier for the auxiliaries.
"R-Rainer?"
Rainer snapped out of his thoughts, hearing his name. He turned, seeing a few servants also hiding beneath the wagon, amongst which was Hoplite.
He peeked up at Rainer over a servant, a concoction of alarm and fear swirling in his eyes, now intermingled with curiosity.
Rainer offered a small, placating smile.
"You good?"
Hoplite faintly nodded.